Things That Go Bump in the Dark
by Ash Katchadourian
Summary: Connor Campbell is an average hunter of the supernatural, living with her Aunt Gillian, Uncle Ray, and Cousin Allison. A new case springs up that complicates her already hectic life, involving a local group of werewolves, in particular Caleb Mitchell. Prologue: Beneath the bright things, beneath what is stark, Look, and you'll find things that go bump in the dark.
1. Chapter 1

"Woah," He panted as she rolled off of him, their bodies warm. He stared up at the ceiling in an attempt to wrap his head around just how good _that_ had been.  
"Mhhm," She agreed passively, glancing at the clock on his dark dresser to the right of her.  
1:07.  
There was still time.  
"That was…" His voice trailed off as she stood up, naked, and began to get dressed again. His brows furrowed as he squinted at her, "What are you doing?"  
"Getting dressed?" She said, giving him an equally confused look as she tugged on her panties.  
"It's one in the morning!" He exclaimed, sitting up in the bed. _This girl was nuts!_  
"Your point?" She was looking around the room for the rest of her things as she pulled on her jeggings.  
The man got out of bed—also naked—and stood behind her, pulling her to him. He murmured in her ear, "You know, you don't have to leave so soon."  
"Trust me, I do," She said with a little laugh and a sly grin. _He didn't know the half of it_. The man was kissing her neck and holding her chest tightly in his hands.  
"Why?" He asked, spinning her around to face him. He locked his hands around her waist and stared into her eyes.  
"Because," She said elusively, sliding her arms up his warm chest and to his cheeks. As she kissed him, she reached behind him to pluck her Victoria Secret's bra off of his bed post. Pulling back she pushed it into his hand and said, "Now help me put this on."  
Reluctantly, he did so. Something about the fire she used in her speech forced him to do her bidding. After he was done, she stepped out of his arms and pulled on her off-white bow tank and black leather jacket. She raked a hand through her wild curls and slipped on her boots.  
"I had fun tonight…"She faded off as she realized she didn't quite know his name. She gave him a sheepish look as she lifted up her purse.  
" Johnny?" He said incredulously._ Was she serious?  
_" Right!" She exclaimed with triumph, pointing at him. She'd known it started with a "J".  
She opened the door to leave and he quickly said, "What are the chances that I'm going to see you again?"  
She paused briefly, but then decided honesty was best. "Slim to none." She saw his face drop, so she tried to cheer him up. "Don't worry Joey, the sex was good." It had been a little sloppy, but the boy needed this at the very least.  
"Johnny…" He corrected, his ego bruised.  
"What?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him in confusion.  
"My-my name's Johnny." He tried to smile, but it spread across his face twisted and broken.  
"Right!" She shook her finger at him, and smiled big. Well, this was awkward. "Anyway, I'll show myself out."*  
She closed the door before he could say anything and hurried over to the elevator.

Connor Campbell was not about to let Clingy McClingerson with the frantic fingers keep her from the job. She'd been extremely nice to him, and had even exaggerated on the pleasure factor of the night just to boost his ego. It wasn't her fault that he wanted something impossible and—in all honesty—undesirable on her part. She wasn't meant to be a constant, she was like the wind. She came and went whenever it pleased her.  
She especially wasn't a constant for someone like Joey. Or was it Joshie? Johnny, maybe? Fuck if she knew.  
After climbing into the elevator of what's-his-face's apartment building, she analyzed herself in the mirror. Her milk chocolate skin looked smooth and warm, probably since she'd just rolled out of that guy's bed. Her brown-black hair was wild and kinky—a lot like her—with its cute curls. It went down about 2 inches below her shoulders when curly, and bra strap length when straight. She'd need to cut it soon.  
Connor had wide, dark eyes, the colour of night. Her thick lashes surrounded them, and her slightly red-pink lips with their pout made her breathtaking. Her chest was a little larger than she would have liked for her job description, but Mother Nature was a vindictive bitch. It couldn't be helped.

When Connor's phone vibrated, she didn't even have to check the CID to see who it was.  
"Allie," Connor's voice was softened stone; Still hard and impassive, but a touch softer.  
" Where are you?" Came the voice of her best friend and cousin, Allison Campbell.  
"I had to unwind," Connor explained, the elevator doors opening before her.  
"Ugh, I am so not in the mood to hear about your sex life," Allison's voice sounded agitated on the other end, causing Connor to smirk. The smile faded when she heard something shatter.  
"What's happening? What was that?" Connor listened intently, increasing the pace of her walk.  
"Nothing, just a bowl. Look, Conn, I need you to come here now! 2136 Northridge Ave . Apartment 16." And with that, Allison hung up.  
"Bitch," Connor muttered, hanging up her phone as the air from outside hit her.

Though Connor thought it was cold for March, she enjoyed the feeling of the crisp air lingering around her skin. Small patches of snow had remained here and there, unmoved by the fervent way the sun shone in the daytime now. The streets were busy, as they always were in Toronto, and the deep indigo sky held stars for the dreamers.  
"Fools," She scoffed out loud as she thought about it, waving a pumpkin orange cab over.  
Without really looking at the driver, Connor barked out the directions Allie had given her and began to look through her purse for the things she might need.

Connor was not without temptation and lust, as clearly exhibited by her quickie with the boy who, for the life of her, she could not remember the name of. But, she was also not careless in her manner about it. For example, other girls at the age of 19 might've been seduced into designer labels and expensive hair extensions, or gym memberships and diet pills. But not Connor, definitely not Connor. The signature black bag that she carried with her now was cute and large, but she was not so artless in her manner as to simply pluck it because of its aesthetic advantage. There were many compartments and pockets and zippers in this bag that made it one of the perfect organizers. And that was why it didn't matter to her that it was a Coach knock-off, and why she would happily attest to it when confronted.  
It was something that Connor prided herself on excessively; her ability to get things done clean and simple, emotionless and carefree.

She arrived at the building about 5 minutes later, paid the cabbie, and then strode straight to the elevator—mentally thanking a man for leaving his apartment at just the right time to let her in easily— to get to find Allie.  
The building was mediocre at best, with a brownish-white patterned carpet and cheap plastic plants in the lobby. The elevator was painted some sort of grey-brown, and it smelled a little bit like pee. But she supposed some would classify it as more of a home than her 2005 silver Honda Accord.  
When she arrived at room 16, she turned the knob and walked into all of the chaos. Connor spotted overturned chairs, mud marks on the kitchen floor, not to mention bowls and bowls of foreign substances on the mahogany table with books scattered around. Shards of a blue dish were on the floor beside Allison's feet, causing Connor to realize that that must've been what she'd dropped during their conversation.  
"Allie, what's—" Connor was interrupted by her cousin's sharp movement as she tossed something too her. Connor's strong reflexes allowed her to catch the bag easily.  
"Can you please read what the green book over there says to do with _those_?" Allie, didn't look up from her bowl as she began to add a brown powdery substance.  
Connor's face contorted as she read the contents of the bag. "Pig snout? _Really_?"  
"Don't look at me!" Allie said innocently, though secretly enjoying her cousin's discomfort. It was so hard to shake Connor that any brief moment of it was a small victory for her. "And you only need one."  
Allie was tall and thin, with a smaller frame than Connor's wiry one. Allie's skin was a mocha-like café au lait, while Connor's was more of a full on hot chocolate. Even in the sense of fashion where Connor loved to dress comfortable or sexy, but Allie loved to dress girly and reserved, were they different. They were polar opposites in many ways, but it made for a more interesting relationship.  
"Blech, you totally owe me for this!" Connor shot at her, walking towards the kitchen mess and putting a snout in a large white bowl. As she began to crush it into a gooey substance, she read from the book. "Where's the cayenne?"  
Allison wordlessly passed her cousin the pepper as she crunched sage leaves into her own bowl.  
" We've got to hurry," Allie said looking up at the clock, before turning down to her bowl. She lifted a flask of clear liquid and poured it into her bowl as Connor added olive oil to hers.  
"Done!" She wiped her hands together as Allie snatched her bowl and mixed the contents. "By the way, what happened to this place?"  
"I'm not sure," Allie admitted honestly, as she used a syringe to extract an amount of the pale blue now liquid solution and put it into a glass vial. Her black curls, much like her cousin's, were in a bun on top of her head with the cream blouson dress she wore making her look almost regal. "Most of it was trashed before I got here. But this is the address—"  
Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered and the TV went on and then off. The wind outside was now blowing so fiercely that it had actually shattered the glass of the small window near the other end of the apartment.  
"Incoming!" Allie yelled, clutching the little vial in her hand.  
Right on cue, a redheaded woman appeared before them out of thin air.  
She wasn't particularly tall, particularly skinny, or particularly terrifying. But the presence about her made it seem as though she was.  
Her copper read hair was fishtail braided, and her dramatic blue eyes were cold as they crossed the girls. She wore a black trench coat with high red heels.  
"Are you kidding me?" The lady said incredulously, laughing a little despite herself.  
"You wish, you dumb slut!" Connor spat the words at her sharply, before she saw the woman raise her hand and flick it to the side.  
Connor's body flew into the wall as if a huge gust of wind had pushed her there. She was being pressed there by the heavy weight of the air, and was wheezing air in and out painfully. Her feet weren't touching the ground as the woman walked towards her, a menacing grin on her face.  
"You stupid, stupid, girl," The woman said when they were nearly close enough to touch. "Let me show you some manners."  
The redhead squeezed her right fist shut, and as she did, Connor felt her lungs contract. No matter how hard she tried to gasp for air, nothing came in. Making eye contact with Allie, she watched her cousin throw the vial at the ground beneath the woman's feet. A loud crack was sounded as the bottle broke, and a puff of blue smoke came up just as Connor slid down the wall and regained the ability to breathe.  
The woman looked at her hand in confusion and panic, squeezing repeatedly. Connor had begun to crawl towards her purse, while the redhead continued on in vain. When nothing happened, she turned around and shot a hateful glare at Allie before yelling, "What did you do?"  
"You're powerless, bitch," Connor, still dragging in oxygen, smiled as she pulled her beautiful black M1911 pistol from her purse.  
"What?" The woman's face dropped in terror as she looked around frantically for some means of escape.  
"Exactly," Connor eased towards her, holding the gun in both hands and keeping it pointed at her head. "How does it feel?"  
" No wait, stop!" The girl shrieked, tears welling in her eyes. _She wasn't so tough now, was she?_  
"Save it for someone who cares," Connor snorted, easing closer and holding the gun to the girl's head.  
"No, I'm sorry! I—" The girl cut off abruptly as Connor pistol whipped her and watched her fall to the ground, unconscious.  
"Witches," Connor said in contempt as she stared down at the unconscious body.  
"What are we going to do, Conn?" Allie asked nervously, biting her nails as she did.  
"About what?" Connor demanded, setting her gun on the kitchen table. "Pass me your bag."  
As Allie passed her the grey backpack she carried sometimes, she continued, "You know, about her?"  
"We're going to kill her," Connor stated bluntly, closing the books and pushing them into the bag. Allie had already started sealing some of the cans and containers and was putting them inside as well.  
"We _can't_ kill her, Connor!" Allie protested, shoving more things into the bag before zipping it up. Her dark brown eyes were on her cousin's. "She's powerless now. Human now. We can't kill her now."  
" What, like she couldn't kill all of those people?" Connor exclaimed, looking up at her cousin now. "She's a murderer, Allie. We can't let her back on those streets."  
Allie had cleaned off the table and looked over at the unmoving figure while she said, "Yeah, but that's not our call to make. We're not the cops."  
"We're _better_!" Connor exclaimed putting her purse over her shoulder. She shrugged at her cousin's angry look, and said, "She might be powerless, but that doesn't mean she's not dangerous. A witch can _always_ find a way to tap into their powers, and this binding potion won't hold forever. If we let her go just because she _looks_, _seems_ human, we're not going to be doing anyone any favours. She's a monster, Allie. You know that. You know what we've got to do."  
"You're right." Allie crossed her arms uncomfortably across her chest, and looked away as she gulped. "You do it."  
"Allie,you're—" Connor began angrily.  
"Please, Connor!" Allie pleaded, squeezing her eyes shut.  
"Fine." Connor plucked her gun off of the table and walked back towards the unconscious body of the redhead. She raised the gun and pointed it at the girl's head. Unflinchingly, she fired.  
But Allie had flinched, Connor knew. The loud boom of the gun had not been loud enough to drown out Allie's gasp. Really, the girl was probably crying. It was strange to think that Allie had been raised as a hunter from the womb, basically, but Connor was better at it than her.  
"Alright, make sure we've got everything, because once we leave we can't come back." Connor turned around and saw the disaster of the house as she set her gun down again. "Whose place did you say this was again?"  
" I don't know. Dad just gave me the address. It probably belonged to one of her victims." Allie looked down at the dead body despite herself, and asked, "We're not just going to leave her here, are we?"  
"Are you crazy?" Connor asked incredulously, cracking her knuckles. "Not only would the cops find it, but we'd probably have a wicked ghost on our hands. We're going to salt and burn this bitch, because I am not dealing with _this_ beyond the grave as well." Connor began to walk around the abandoned apartment, looking for…something. "But it doesn't fit. Why would she come back to the place where she killed someone? Unless she was looking for something…or left something behind."  
"Connor, we have bigger problems on our hands," As usual, Connor was playing Nancy Drew. She could never just get the job done and leave it at that. Always had to go picking. It was what made her an amazing hunter. But Allie was worried about something else. "Like, for instance, how we're going to get a dead body out of the building."  
" Maybe it was a charm, or talisman," Connor was in the bedroom now, still searching.  
This area was trashed too. The blankets and sheets of the bed were torn off, while the bed itself was in the middle of the room. Broken class and cracked wood lay everywhere, with clothes from the closet strewn on all areas of the room. Something glimmered and caught her eye. She bent down to retrieve it.  
There was a beautiful gold-filled Victorian locket sitting atop a white blouse. The chain of the piece was decorated with detailed rosettes. The locket is clasped shut by a little loop that attaches to the front. And inside though there was no picture, there was a small amount of a dried, almost ashy, herb of some sort. It had a familiar, aromatic odour that Connor couldn't quite place.

Connor walked to Allison and triumphantly showed her the piece. She was absolutely mortified when her cousin began to go girly on her.  
"Oh my gosh, Connor, that is beautiful!" Allison snatched it from her hands and giggled extensively. "Hmm, it looks like a 19th century piece. Probably 1860s American, judging from the bulk of the chain. Really unique and rare!"  
"And probably expensive," Connor smiled to herself as she snatched the necklace right back. Shooting a disgusted look at her cousin she said, "I'm deeply, _deeply_ embarrassed for you."  
"It's not every day you see an antique…" Allison muttered bitterly.  
" Well whenever it was made, or whatever it is, my bet is that the witch wanted it," Connor smiled at her cousin. "And if not, I could probably sell it for loads of money."  
" You always were such a romantic, Connor, really," Allie added dryly.  
"I know, right?" Connor said innocently, before remembering. "Oh yeah, and there are some dried herbs inside. I can't quite remember where I've smelled it before, but it's driving me crazy. Take a whiff?"  
Allie smelled and then shook her head, "Nope, sorry. I don't know either. Dad'll know."  
"Alright, so let's get the hell out of Dodge," Pushing her purse in Allie's hands, she knelt to picked up the body and tossed it over her shoulder.  
"How are we getting out?" Allie asked nervously.  
"The same way we got in?" Connor asked, inclining her voice. Shaking her head, she opened the front door and said, "I swear to God, Allie. Sometimes you're so thick."


	2. Chapter 2

The drive back to the Campbell home was light and amiable. No one would've ever suspected that they had the body of a single white female in their trunk for about half an hour before they found a decent place to burn and bury her. In retrospect, Connor was glad that they'd taken Allison's blue Honda Civic on the job rather than her car. The dead body smell was going to be a bitch to get out. But her neat little cousin would be able to set the car right again in a jiff.  
Allie pulled into the driveway of the stone-grey bungalow with the maroon-brown shingled roof. The 3 pained windows on either side of the African Mahogany door were blank due to the thick curtains that were drawn 24/7. It looked a touch out of place, Connor supposed, in this warm and welcoming neighbourhood. They were friendly with the neighbours on occasion, and even got invited to a few celebrations; birthday parties, school plays, and a wedding once or twice. The Campbell's kept to themselves, but did more for the people than they could ever imagine.  
Connor had lived here ever since she was twelve years old. She'd wanted it to be home, but it never quite was.

"Well?" said Allie's father as he opened the door and came down the steps of the house.  
"Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead," Connor sing-songed with a grin that was returned by her uncle.

Ray Campbell was a tall man, who looked comfortable at the age of 52. He was wearing an orange plaid shirt with a pair of blue jeans and running shoes. His beard was neatly trimmed and his dark eyes were still sharp, despite his years. He still had the broad shoulders and muscular body that had made him one of the best hunters in his prime. Hell, he still _was_ one of the best hunters. He'd taught the girls everything he knew, and had raised them in the life—even Connor when she'd fallen into his hands 6 years ago. She'd picked it up easily, and had been more of a hunter than his daughter was. But Allison was good, too. They both were. Both good, just different.  
"It's not funny!" Allie pushed Connor with a pout on her face.  
"It's a little funny," Connor murmured with a slight smirk.  
To avoid hearing their little debate over morals and ethics, Ray asked, " What'd you do with the body?"  
"This sadist," Allie said while eyeing her cousin, " Carried her straight through the front door, put her in the trunk, and made me drive to some random abandoned house where—"  
"We torched her." Connor finished flatly. "Fitting, really, with the witch thing. If only we'd tied her to a stake…"  
"Ugh, I'm out of here," Allie shot in disgust, storming into the house. She called back and said, " You two can go over every gory detail while I watch _The Real World_."  
"That girl needs to get her head in the real world," Connor said to her Uncle who nodded in agreement. She pulled out the locket and showed it to him saying, "But anyway, I found this in the bedroom of that apartment you sent us to. I figured that since she was coming back there, she must've needed or wanted something anyway."  
"Good," He was pleased with her logistics, and smiled in approval. After taking the necklace from her hand he analyzed it.  
"It's Victorian," she piped in, watching his fingers smooth over it as if in deep thought. "Allie figures 1860s in particular. You know her and her love of trinkets."  
"That I do," He flipped it over and touched the little letters. "There's something inscribed on the back here."  
"Really?" Connor furrowed her brows, mentally kicking herself for not noticing. "What does it say?"  
"'Non Timebo Mala'" Ray read aloud, a chill rolling over his spine.  
"'I will fear no evil'?" Connor said dubiously, translating it from Latin to English. As she took it from her uncle's hand and reading it over herself, she asked, " Why would a girly knick-knack like this have something so dark and cryptic inscribed on it?"  
" I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Ray promised, flipping it over in his hand again.  
"Oh, and there're some herbs inside, but I can't quite place the smell," Connor added, now feeling slightly nervous. A simple hunt had turned into something much bigger.  
Flicking it open, Ray inhaled deeply. His face hardened as he spoke flatly. "Angelica root."  
"A strong evil warding herb that only grows in Northern Europe. This is too weird." Connor shuddered.  
" This definitely changes things." Ray looked up at Connor and patted her shoulder, "Good job with the witch. I'm going to make a few calls, but you should get some sleep."  
"Uncle Ray—" Connor protested, anger welling up inside of her. He knew that she _hated_ being sent to bed when there was a case that hadn't been solved. She hated not finishing things she'd started, including books and games.  
"Connor, you've been roaming the streets all night. Everybody needs to sleep sometime." Ray hated watching her do this to herself. He hoped her sleep pattern wasn't getting messed up again.  
"Sleep is for the weak," She said playfully, watching her Uncle's face remain impassive. "Okay, not a funny joke from a former insomniac. But, I'm fine. And I won't be able to sleep anyway with everything falling to pieces around me. I need in on this."  
"Connor…" He faded off as he thought about it. He might need her help depending on what he found. "Alright. But only if you promise me to go to sleep when I tell you."  
She gulped and nodded. "Promise."

6:04.  
The red numbers on her alarm clock couldn't be true.  
She'd finally thrown herself into bed at 3:30 after her uncle had made his calls and tossed theories around with her. That gave her a total of about two and a half hours of sleep.  
More than usual, Connor thought as she rolled her tired body out of bed.  
As she walked to the bathroom, she thought about her insomnia. It was definitely coming back—not that it ever really left—and they'd notice soon enough. It was pretty hard hiding something from those that you spent almost every hour of the day with. But she didn't want to trouble them with her problems, and God knew she had a lot.  
Her hair was up in every direction, and the curls of yesterday were the coarse waves of today. Raking a hand through her dark kinks, she shook it out and put it in a low ponytail. Her right-side bangs, she braided. Next she looked at her reflection. The dark skin had an ironic pallor to it that she hoped no one would pick up on. Her dark eyes had bags under them, and weren't as sharp as usual.  
As she plucked up her green toothbrush, she resolved to fix this before anyone noticed. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she went back to her room and threw on black spandex shorts and a white tank. She strolled to the basement where they had the treadmill, and ran for about an hour with a bottle of water by her side. Then she dragged herself back up to bed, and threw herself down.  
She was unconscious before she hit the mattress.

10:23.  
Well, that was more reasonable.  
Connor found that when she put herself through some extensive form of exercise, her body could shut down at will. It wasn't sleep, exactly, because it was dreamless. It was just being unconscious. Still, she needed it.  
Alcohol helped too, but she had enough problems without adding an addiction to it.

After showering, Connor redid a nicer form of her braid and ponytail combo. Then, pushing on a touch of make-up, she dressed in a wheat coloured tri-blend V neck that showed off much of her chest and plain black yoga pants with socks.  
Clean and simple.  
She went downstairs to find that everyone was already out. Uncle Ray and Aunt Gillian must've gotten an early start at the restaurant. It was perfect, now that Connor thought about it, for hunters to get a self-made job. Opening their little Jamaican-Canadian restaurant had been risky, but now _Campbell's_ was an easy access to money that they would always have.  
Allie must've headed off to school around the time when Connor had set to work on the treadmill. Sometimes Connor forgot that the kid was still in school. She was just a year younger than her, but was also younger than her in so many other ways as well. A virgin, for one thing. And despite the life they'd both had, she was softer than Connor was or ever could be.  
Frying an egg in the cozy kitchen, she made a sandwich for breakfast. When she curled up on the warm, green sofa to eat it, she flicked the TV to the news. If anything strange was being reported, she'd be on it like white on rice.  
But after about a half hour of channel surfing, she realized that things were pretty much normal. There hadn't been strange deaths or break-ins or anything of the sort. If anything, _that_ was the strange part.  
Connor began to look up Angelica Root, even though she probably knew more about it than Google. It was used in exorcisms, as she knew well enough. Could the witch have been working with demons? It wasn't unlikely, given how tightly linked the two were. It was also, more commonly, a barrier against evil. That could be anything at all: Ghosts, Vampires, Werewolves, and so much more. They'd have to run tests to see how each of the monsters reacted to this bizarre plant.  
And what would they do when they did discover it? The plant grew thousands of miles away, and would be a burden to retrieve. Of course it must've been brought here, long ago. But if her memory served her correctly, one thing she'd learned about mystical herbs was that they were far stronger when they were found in their natural homes.  
Pulling out the locket, she examined it again.  
_Non Timebo Mala.  
_I will fear no evil.  
Really, what business did a young maiden in the 1860s have with a necklace like that? Perhaps she'd been raised a hunter? But what exactly did Angelica Root do? And how was it connected to the witch she'd killed the night before?  
Connor's cell phone rang, and she plucked it up eagerly, after reading the CID.  
"Uncle Ray, did you find something?" She demanded, curiosity forcing out her bluntness.  
"A man, Ted Hawthorn, killed the same way the last one was: Slit across the throat," He spoked in hushed tones over the phone, allowing Connor to hear the bustle of the restaurant.  
"Give me the address, I'll check it out," Connor was eager for a job. Eager for something to get her mind off of…everything.  
" Before I do, Connor, listen. The murderer might be a witch, true. But this one's not chump change like the last." He put force behind each word. "Be. Careful."  
"I promise," she said, a half-assed attempt at allegiance. "Address?"  
He gave her the instructions quickly and barely had said goodbye when she hung up and was dressed up like a Fed.  
After putting on the black, pinstripe super-flare pants and double-breasted blazer, she straightened her hair quickly and did a simple fishtail braid that stopped just under her shoulders. She decided to push on a touch more makeup, for the professional look. After slipping on her professional black heels, she grabbed her fake ID that read "Charlotte Brooks" and headed out the door.  
Pretending to work for the RCMP was a little trying, but it did have its perks. For example, no red-tape, no closed doors, and no questions asked—because, really, who was stupid enough to pretend to work for the RCMP? Hunters sometimes got involved in situations that the regular police department couldn't make sense of. They had to find some way past the big guns in order to get to the root of the problem and stamp it out quickly.  
When she got to the man's condo, the yellow "caution" tape was already set up, cop cars everywhere. She scoffed at their "preparedness", knowing that they spent more time playing detective and trying to figure out _how_ people died than doing their actual job of _preventing_ it.  
After parking her car, she strode over to the police easily.  
"Morning, Officers," She declared as the modest men and women stopped whatever work they had been doing to turn to her. Whipping out her badge, she continued, "I'm Agent Brooks. RCMP. There have been at least five similar murders in the past week. Any ideas?"  
" We're not any closer than you guys to figuring this out," One officer said, stepping closer to her. He had chocolate brown almond shaped eyes and a golden tan. His muscular build fit snugly into his uniform, and his nametag read 'Officer Keith Saitou'.  
She nodded along, before asking, "Has the family been interviewed?"  
"No wife, kids, hell, not even a goldfish," Officer Saitou shook his head in dismay. " Only living relative we could find was his mom, and she's in a nursing home slowly going through dementia."  
" Neighbours?" Connor gave him an expectant look.  
"We tried, but they don't know much about him. They say he always kept to himself, didn't trouble anyone. He's been dead for two days, and no one's noticed." Keith Saitou shrugged, looking as exasperated as Connor imagined he felt. " I swear, it's almost like the guy never existed."  
"Then who called to report his body?" Connor asked, suddenly very interested.  
"Anonymous tip," he responded, watching the pretty Agent furrow her brows in confusion.  
"That's not suspicious at all," she murmured sarcastically under her breath. "Mind if I have look around?"  
" No problem at all," he moved out of her way and let her enter the house.

The look of the small house was just the same as she assumed Ted Hawthorn was: mediocre and hard to remember. There was a simple television with a simple couch and several other simple things. She wasn't very surprised when she saw the that the dead body of simple Ted was, in fact, simple looking.  
He lay sprawled across the kitchen floor, with a deep gash across his neck so perfect that it looked surgical. His skin was paler than it should be, telling Connor that a great deal of blood had been lost or taken. She'd have figured vampire, but why would a vampire ever need to use a knife? The blood even dripped down onto his white t-shirt, disproving the vampire theory. Those bloodsucking monsters wouldn't have wasted a drop of their precious life source. His mouse brown hair was so neat and his body so calm that you'd have thought he was asleep if it hadn't been for the slash on his neck. However he died, it didn't look like much of a struggle. In fact, it seemed like more of the thing a trained assassin or even a hunter could've done.  
The crime scene team was taking pictures and dusting up the place, but Connor already knew they'd find nothing that would help them. She saw one of the policewomen holding a cell phone with gloved hands.  
Connor walked towards her and asked, "Was that the victim's?"  
The pixie-like blonde haired, brown-eyed cop nodded in affirmation and said, "Yeah, but it's password protected. We'll have to take it downtown to see what's on it."  
"Do you mind if I try?" Connor asked, holding out her hand. With a shrug the blonde woman—Officer Corinne Daley—handed her the iPhone. Since there wasn't much to the man who owned the phone, Connor figured his password was probably just as average as he was. She entered in 4 0s. "Unlocked."  
"But…" Officer Daley looked both shocked and impressed as Connor began to scroll through his contacts and conversations.  
"I've cracked a few codes in my day," Connor explained as she found his last—and seemingly _only_—conversation. It was from someone labeled "Christy" on his phone.  
"Oh," Officer Daley was not entirely convinced. As she was about to ask Connor a question, Officer Saitou walked up and stood next to her.  
"Ah, I see you've met the Mountie," He inclined his head toward Connor who was deeply intrigued by the text message she'd just read.  
"As in RCMP?" Corinne asked incredulously as her partner nodded in a mixture of respect and awe. "Aren't you a little young to be a Mountie?"  
" I get that all the time," Connor laughed as she looked to them. It wasn't a lie, exactly. She turned back to the text message and quickly memorized the number. " Anyway, thank you Officer Daley. I'll get out of your hair for now."  
"Wait, did you find anything on the phone?" Corinne Daley was eager to see if there had been some sort of break in the case.  
"Nada, " Connor lied smoothly as she deleted the message. "I didn't find anything at all. But feel free to check it over."

After handing the phone back to Officer Daley, Connor began to walk back towards her car.  
"Wait, Agent Brooks," Officer Saitou followed her in the direction of her car. She turned to look at him, squinting against the newly rising sun. He pushed ahead, " I was wondering if we could go out sometime? Maybe for coffee, or something?"  
She'd known this moment was coming and had even contemplated responding with a yes. He was extremely attractive, and he didn't piss her off. But the second he'd suggested a coffee date was the second that she completely decided against it. A coffee date meant that he wanted to get to know her, talk to her, share feelings. That was about as appetizing as a mouthful of dirt. Plus, he was an officer. In her line of work, she might run into him again. It would just be too messy.  
"Sorry, Officer, I don't make a habit of dating those in my line of work," She shrugged apologetically and saw his smile falter a little.  
" Well, if you change your mind, here's my number," He handed her a slip of paper and walked away.  
Poor sap, Connor thought to herself as she drove off.  
Come to think of it, they all were poor saps.  
They thought that they were doing so much good for the world; fighting crime, putting away the bad guys. Little did they know that there was a world of pain out there that they couldn't even fathom. That's why she'd lied to them and said that there was nothing of importance on the phone. If she'd let them get involved, they'd undoubtedly get in the way. They'd hinder more than they helped, and she couldn't deal with having more human blood on her hands. She'd tell Uncle Ray and Aunt Gillian what the text message had been, and then she would take care of it. It was better this way.


	3. Chapter 3

"I know who killed the guy," Connor said forcefully, leaning across the kitchen table to stare directly into her Aunt and Uncle's eyes. Correcting herself, she added, "Or, at least, I know where I can find them."

She'd waited until Ray and Gillian had gotten home from work, and until Allie had gotten home from school. It was around 3:30 now, and she'd been patient long enough. Sure, she'd spent the rest of her afternoon doing more research, cleaning her guns and knives, making sure she had a few power-binding potions—even though they might be futile on the one she'd be facing tonight.

Allie was at the desk in the warm, earthy living room doing some ridiculous ethics homework when her cousin's words caught her attention.

"Go on," Aunt Gillian said, in that gentle demand of hers.  
Gillian was still beautiful at the age of 50. A few wrinkles adorned her face, but they only made her look stronger; aged, but still in control. Her skin was the same mocha colour as her daughters, and she'd been born with a small frame as well. Over the years, she'd packed on a few pounds of muscle, however, which she always hoped her daughter would do as well. Her dark eyes, like her husbands, were still sharp. She was wearing a white camisole with a pale pink belted cardigan and dark slacks. Her hair was a fashionable bob cut that Connor couldn't for the life of her figure out how she kept looking so perfect all the time.  
"At the scene of the crime," Connor straightened and began to explain. "I got one of the officers to give me Ted Hawthorn's cell phone. They couldn't crack the code—because they're imbeciles—and so as soon as I did, I obviously read his inbox messages." She licked her lips here as she paused, before continuing enthusiastically. " There was a message from a Miss Christy from two nights ago that read: 'I didn't see you at _Cat's Eye _ yesterday'. Sad face. Then, she said: 'Meet me here tonight for drinks, Teddy Bear' with a wink face."  
"Wait, are you saying—" Allie, completely enthralled now, turned from her homework and began to ask a question.  
"That a grown man actually responds to being called 'Teddy Bear'?" Connor interrupted, raising her brows in her cousin's direction. With a dramatic shudder she said, "Sadly, yes."  
"No," Allie rolled her eyes and pressed on, " Do you think this Christy character might've killed him?"  
"Might've?" Connor repeated with a questioning tone. " It's almost certain, I think." Turning to her Aunt and Uncle now, Connor elaborated, " This man has barely any human contact. His mom's in a nursing home, he's single, has no pets, and none of his neighbour's even knew he was missing. His inbox was completely free of messages, except for this one to which he replied 'Sure' with _two_ wink faces! Lonely guy goes out for drinks with Mystery Miss, and is found dead two days later? Coincidence? I think not. By the looks of him, he wasn't getting lucky because of his sparkling personality." Aunt Gillian shot her a stern look. Sheepishly almost, Connor said, "What? It's true."  
"So what are you planning?" Uncle Ray asked intently. He had to hear what his daredevil niece was going to try to pull this time.  
Bluntly, Connor gave the short description of her plan," I'm going down to _Cat's Eye_ tonight, I'm going to find Christy, and then I'm going to put a bullet in her."  
Gillian could feel her husband tensing behind her, and laid a manicured hand over his. Because she loved her niece, she would poke holes in her plan, "And how do you plan on doing that?"  
" I've got some Power-Binding Potions in my purse, and I've got almost every kind of protection charm too," Connor was prepared for this. She knew it.  
"Well, I do hope that you're not simply going to toss a vial of potion at some bartender in a club and then pull out your gun to finish the job," Gillian's icy sarcasm was gently chilling.  
"I'll get her alone somehow," Connor sighed. Putting her hands on her hips, Connor said, "Look, guys. I've done this before, and I'll do it again. Tonight, this little witch's killing spree comes to an ironic end. Christy has to die tonight. And once we figure out her angle, we'll finally know what's going on."  
"What if she's not a witch?" Allie said now, causing all eyes to focus on her in confusion. "What if she's just a human girl with a crush?"  
" She's not, Allie," Connor said, steel behind her voice. "She's either a witch or…or some other freak that does nothing but kill. Do you really want something like that wandering the streets? Plucking up civilian after civilian until there's no one left?" Silence. "Me neither. So I'm going to get her tonight."  
"Be careful," Uncle Ray said now, something very gentle in his hard eyes. He shook his head wistfully, "You're still not sure what you're up against. Bring everything, and expect _everything_."  
"Always," Connor said meaningfully. She'd never forget what it was like to be unprepared, completely helpless. She'd never forget that night.  
"I'm coming with you," Allie said fiercely. She was _not_ letting Connor go to that nightclub alone.  
"No," Aunt Gillian's voice was just as fierce as her daughter's.  
"Mom, I'm not letting Connor go against this thing on her own," Allie, turned to face her mother in surprise. Surely, this wasn't what her mother was suggesting.  
"What, and you think we are?" Aunt Gillian demanded, as if reading her daughter's mind.  
"We're going with you Connor," Uncle Ray said clearly, decidedly.  
"No, I can handle it," Connor persisted. Hadn't she proved to them a long time ago that she could take care of herself?  
"Even if that's the case, we're not letting you go alone," Aunt Gillian responded coolly. "If you're so against us going, we'll call tell another hunter about the job, have them meet up with you."  
"No," Connor said between her teeth, feeling her cheeks get warm with embarrassment.  
" Why can't I go with her?" Allie probed, in her somewhat meek voice. "I'm only a year younger than Connor, I'm not a child!"  
" You're not a strong enough hunter," Uncle Ray said coldly, bluntly. It was the same bluntness that Connor possessed, that her father before her had had. Allie's face fell completely. "We can't risk it."  
" Fine," Allie pursed her lips and went to her room quietly. To anyone else, she looked fine. To her family, she looked royally hurt and pissed off.  
"Ray," Gillian scolded her husband, the soft curve of her mouth set in an angry line.  
"She's not going with Connor," Ray said with an apathetic shrug.  
"Well now you have to let her come," Connor said, tossing her hands up in the air. "She's good backup, I promise you that. And when we're together, you don't need to worry about either of us."  
"No, it just means I have to worry about you both," Ray wasn't interested in letting both of his girls facing something that they didn't understand.  
"Do you trust me?" Connor asked. When neither of them didn't answer, she repeated herself.  
"Of course we trust you, Connor," Gillian said with a nod. "And we trust Allie too. Tell her she's going with you."  
Before Ray could say anything, Connor gave a sly grin and strode to Allie's room.  
She'd let her Aunt and Uncle debate the strengths and flaws, the rights and wrongs of Allie coming along with her. Really, it wasn't her place to get in the middle of a marital dispute—whether or not she wanted to.  
Connor knocked on Allie's door and let herself in.  
"Shine your shoes, Allie-Cat," Connor said dramatically with a sweep of her hand. "You're coming."  
Allie's room was so classically girly. The walls were a creamy off-white colour that made Connor think of sugar and spice and everything nice. Her single bed had a cherry wood frame, with champagne coloured sheets and rose pink covers and pillows. There was a long pale dresser that was veneered. It was adorned with a variety of things, all neatly placed: makeup, nail polishes, lotions, and perfumes. All things very feminine. Connor, of course, had these things too, but they weren't presented so boldly in her room. And her room had a darker mood to it; it wasn't as…pink. There was a coral pink plush armchair in a corner of the room that Allie had opted for in lieu of a traditional computer chair. The little desk that it was adjacent to was decked with her laptop, notes, books, and all her other school stuff. Allie was sitting there furiously typing on her laptop, but stopped to look at Connor in shock.  
"What?" Allie asked in confusion.  
"You heard me," Connor played it cool, knowing it would just be embarrassing for the both of them to discuss what had just happened. "So quit blogging, go finish your math, and let's get a move on."  
"Thanks Conn-Artist," Allie said coolly, hip bumping her cousin on her way out.  
Connor only smiled in response.

"Are you ready?" Connor called to her cousin from the bathroom just after 9. She had just put the finishing touches on her makeup.  
"Give me a second!" Allie called back.  
Connor was wearing a black surplus tiered chiffon dress. The neck was a deep V, with ruffle trimming that exposed her rather ample bust. It was a pretty short mini-dress, and she wore black spandex shorts underneath, since she would definitely be kicking ass tonight. But since it would only be briefly, she allowed herself the luxury of wearing her favourite 4 inch stilettos in pale gold.  
Because her hair had still been pretty wavy from her braid, she had decided to leave it wavy. Her eyes were made smokey, and her lips were a daring red gloss. She had only bothered to put clear coat on her nails, but she had to admit that she looked delectable.  
"OK, I'm ready," Allie walked into the bathroom and was taken aback by her cousin. "You look stunning, Conn!"  
"Thank you," Connor grinned excitedly. Taking note of her cousin she said, " So do you!"  
Allie's style was girly and gorgeous, but always tasteful. She wore a chiffon strapless dress with a cinched circle skirt. The top was black and the bottom was a black and rose pink floral pattern. She wore black kitten heels—appropriately—and her hair was perfectly straight. Her makeup was more neutral than Connor's, but still beautiful.  
"Thanks, mate," Allie was a little nervous about going to _Cat's Eye_. She still wasn't entirely sure how Connor planned on achieving the impossible task of killing some girl in a nightclub, but then again, she never knew how Connor did these things. She doubted Connor did either.  
"Grab your jacket, grab your purse. I'm driving."

They'd gotten to _Cat's Eye_ at about 9:30, and were none too surprised by the surroundings of the club. It was a pretty busy section of town, with lines and lines of people waiting to get a glimpse of the insides. Luckily, Connor had gone out with one of the bouncers who was working the door, and since they had ended things on good terms, he let the two of them breeze by. The club itself was much like any other in architecture and design.  
The two maneuvered their way to the bar through the enormous group of people gyrating on the dance floor. Sitting on the high black stools. In the car, Connor and Allie had decided to simply ask the bartenders—who knew the place better than anyone—if they'd seen a woman named Christy with Ted Hawthorn. It was a shot in the dark, but that was all they had.  
"Hi there," Connor flashed a winning smile at the bartender in their section.  
The man was about average height, with light muscles packed onto his body. His hair was honey blond and his cornflower blue eyes were cast on her in a way that she'd seen several times before.  
It was almost unfair.  
"Hey," He shot her a fantastic grin of his own, and leaned against the bar. " What can I get you?"  
"Hmmm…I'll get back to you on that one," Connor gave a low laugh, still beaming at him. "But, I was just wondering if you knew someone? A girl. A girl named Christy?"  
"Uhh, do you mean Christy Baker?" He asked, confused about what she had to do with anything.  
"I think that might be the one," Connor nodded in affirmation. "She should have been here with Ted Hawthorn yesterday?"  
"Who's Ted Hawthorn?" the bartender furrowed his brows in confusion.  
"Uhh, not really a memorable figure," Connor ignored the daggers Allie was shooting her way. "I mean, brown hair, brown eyes, really quiet."  
"I think I remember her being here with someone like that," the blond nodded along now.  
"So you know Christy?" Connor said it dubiously, afraid to believe the case was almost wrapped up.  
Oh sure, everyone knows Christy," the bartender shrugged nonchalantly. "She's actually a bartender here. Not that you'd be able to tell with her low work ethic and tendency to take home customers before her shift's even over. Still don't know how she's managed to not get fired yet."  
"She's a bartender _here_?" Allie piped in, needing clarification. "Is she here right now?"  
"No, she's not working tonight. But she might be hanging around here somewhere…" The blond faded off now, looking suspicious. " What's going on here?"  
"Nothing," Connor lied smoothly. "We're just two of Ted's friends, and he hasn't stopped talking about her since. We just want to meet the girl who seems to have finally captured his heart."  
"He likes her?" the bartender raised his eyebrows at this. " Wow, that's new. Every guy that she's ever taken home has never come back to this bar, and she's never talked about them again."  
A shiver went up Connor's spine as she asked, " What does she look like?"  
"Blonde, blue-eyed babe," He said simply. Then, leaning towards Connor he said, "Like me."  
Grinning at his flirtatious joke, she asked, "Any tattoos, beauty marks?"  
"Yeah, come to think of it, she has a tattoo some French quote I think. On her wrist," He struggled to remember the exact words.  
"I was talking about you," Connor said slyly.  
"Okay, we have to go," Allie interrupted before her cousin could throw herself over the table. "But thank you for the help."  
"Anytime," the bartender said, still eyeing Connor.

"So?" Allie asked impatiently when she'd pulled Connor into the women's restroom.  
"So what?" Connor asked, shrugging.  
"So what are we going to do now?" Allie asked, putting her hands on her hips. "The witch isn't here, and we don't know when she'll be back."  
"So you admit she's a witch now," Connor noted, a small grin across her lips.  
"The fact that none of her dates ever come back was a little to blatantly obvious for even my hopefulness to remain intact," Allie admitted. "But, we can't exactly ask your boyfriend for her home address."  
"So, we'll keep asking around," Connor shrugged simply. "He said that she could be here somewhere, and that everybody knew her. We'll talk to some of the people here, say that we were supposed to meet up with her. At least one of them is bound to know where she is."  
"You just want to chat up more men," Allie accused, eyes widening.  
"Really, Allie, I am deeply offended by this allegation," Connor pressed a hand to her heart and batted her eyes innocently. "What kind of a girl do you think I am?"  
Allie rolled her eyes at her cousin and began opening the door to exit, " Okay, I'll give it 10 minutes. But if we're just wasting time, we're leaving. I have an English test tomorrow."  
"Allie you're such a—" Connor's words were cut off as she bumped into something solid.  
"Sorry, love," came the gruff apology seasoned with a faint hint of an Irish accent.  
As she righted herself again, she looked at him. He looked to be in his early twenties, tall at about 6'2, and muscular to boot. He had thick, shiny black hair that was a little on the long side as it hung over his face a little. His eyes were candy apple green, a startling contrast to his dark hair. His skin was on the pale-tawny side, which she deduced was on account of his Irish background. He was wearing a black Henley and dark-wash jeans.  
"No, it was my fault," Connor said, mesmerized by the look of him.  
"Let me buy you a drink," he said in a decisive way, his eyes cast down at hers.  
"Definitely," Connor agreed nodding her head.  
"Um, aren't you forgetting something?" Allie interrupted. At this rate, they'd never even make it out of the club.  
"Nope," Connor said, eyes still locked with his.  
"We have to find Christy," Allie exclaimed, impatient.  
"You can do it," Connor sighed, pulling her eyes from his to stare coldly at her cousin. "Look, you wanted to prove that you could handle this, didn't you? So prove it to me. Find her, and then come get me. I'll just be at the bar."  
Even though Allie knew what her cousin's goal was with this comment, she couldn't deny the truth behind it. "You're right. Have fun."  
"Don't I always?" She whispered to her cousin slickly. Turning her attentions back to the tall man, she said, "So, where were we?"  
He grinned a heartbreaking grin and escorted her to the bar. He didn't try to take her hand as so many men did, which was definitely in his favour. Clingy was so not her thingy. He did let her seat herself at the bar before he did, which was another point for him.  
When they were asked to order their drinks, he said to her, " Hmm, what kind of drink do you look like you'll order? Perhaps a Cosmo? An Appletini? A Strawberry Stripper?"  
"Perhaps not," She batted her eyes at him in a really feminine fashion, playing up on his idea of her alcohol intake. Turning to the bartender—who thankfully wasn't the one from earlier that night—she said, "I'll have a Manhattan. Naked. Stirred, not shaken. Thanks."  
He whistled in approval, "I'm impressed."  
"So what'll you have?" She tilted her head to the side playfully as she began to guess. "Perhaps a Mai Tai? A Pina Colada? A Slippery Nipple?"  
He shot her an indulgent look and then said to the bartender, " Sazerac, please. Traditional."  
That was a strong drink, Connor thought to herself. She admired the way he'd handled the money. When their drinks were placed down, Connor slowly swirled the cherry in her Manhattan as he squeezed the lemon oil into the drink.  
"What brings you to _Cat's Eye_?" She asked him, taking a sip of her cocktail.  
"Guys Night Out," He told her.  
"Where are the 'guys'?" Connor wondered, smirking at him.  
"Around," He shrugged apathetically, taking a drink from his cocktail. She laughed richly. " And you're here with…?"  
"My best friend," Connor said, speaking fondly of Allie.  
"She seemed pretty bent up about you leaving her alone," He recalled, allowing himself a brief—but luxurious—glance at her chest.  
"She'll manage," Connor brushed it off, knowing Allie could handle herself. After sipping her Manhattan, she continued, " Look, I'm fully capable of handling the stress in my life. I just need to be free every once in a while to unwind. To let my hair down, in a manner of speaking. You know?"  
"Absolutely," He agreed heartily, clinking glasses with hers. "So you've been working hard lately?"  
"You don't know the half of it," She sighed, taking a deeper sip of the drink before she set it down.  
"Oh trust me, I do," He sighed right back, pushing a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. After taking another drink of his Sezerac he said, "But, you know, we do deserve it. Just one day out of the week to sit back and savour the moment."  
"To put our feet up," Connor added wholeheartedly, a smile across her lips. " And to do whatever it is that we really enjoy doing. No matter how foolish, or vain, or vacuous it might be."  
"But," He said coolly, playfully almost, as he drank more of the cocktail. "As fate would have it, there won't be a break for us. We'll work and work and work. We'll work until there's nothing left of us."  
"Except, on those nights," She tossed in playfully, swirling the cherry in her Manhattan once more. "Where we find ourselves at a bar."  
"Having impeccable cocktails with beautiful strangers," He'd said it bluntly, simply lost in his own mind. He hadn't meant to be romantic, but that had always been his flaw.  
"And isn't that what it always comes down to?" She said smartly, as she put the cherry in her mouth, still holding the stem. She smiled a rather bashful smile around the cherry that she held between her teeth, watching his eyes watch her. After she finally bit off the cherry, she chewed it thoughtfully.  
"We've got a Mrs. Jeepers/Mr. Jenkins situation!" Allie all but shrieked as she rushed up beside Connor, killing the mood.  
"Wait," After the initial annoyance at Allie having the worst timing, Connor processed this code phrase. "Are you sure?"  
"Oh, I am positive!" Allie exclaimed, her entire body in a panicked frenzy. "We have to go, now!"  
" I'm sorry, I have to leave _right_ now," Connor said to him, looking over to see that he was staring intently at two guys from across the rom. She saw that they were signaling him to come over, and they looked urgent. "And apparently, so do you."  
" My apologies," he stepped down from the stool and then held out a hand to help her down with. After she was on the ground as well, he looked at her intently and said, " Let's make a habit of finding ourselves at bars."  
"And having impeccable cocktails with beautiful strangers," She quoted him directly with a pretty smile, before turning away.  
Allie rushed her to a corner of the club as they each sifted through their purses to find the appropriate weapons. They had not been expecting this at all, so their vampire and werewolf weapons were minimal. But they were there. They each had about three vials of vervain and wolfsbane each. The knives that they favoured for beheading vampires—Tanto-Long Bowie knives—were already in their bags, and the girls knew that they could also be used for chopping out a werewolf's heart if need be. Connor's had her initials—CVC—carved into hers, and purple gemstones. Allie also had her initials carved—ACC—and hers was decorated with pink flowers. They slipped on their solid silver arm braces and chokers—a metal that both vampires and werewolves alike were allergic too—and sprayed on their homemade vervain/wolfsbane perfume. Their guns were loaded with silver bullets as well.  
They were locked and loaded.  
"Vampires and werewolves?" Connor asked, looking around to see if she could spot them. "Where are they?"  
"They said they were going to 'settle things' on the roof," Allie told her, pushing the 'STAFF ONLY' door that led to just that area.  
"And how many of them were there exactly?" Connor's heels clacked up the steps, as she regretted wearing her favourite heels.  
"I'm not positive," Allie said, hurrying along with her cousin. "But I'm pretty sure there were just two wolves and about five vampires."  
"Great, this just gets better and better," Connor muttered under her breath sarcastically, as they continued to mount the perpetual staircase.  
"Are you sure it was such a smart idea to seek them out? I mean, wouldn't we be better off just going home?" Allie asked nervously, knowing her cousin would chew her ear off for suggesting that.  
"Allie!" Connor shrieked in disgust. " If we just ran off with our tails between our legs, who would protect these clueless civilians from those monsters?"  
"But I don't think they're after the civilians," Allie explained as they kept climbing. " They seem more into killing each other."  
"And killing works up quite an appetite," Connor said dryly.  
"Okay, fine, you're right," She forfeited tiredly, knowing an argument with Connor was a losing battle. "But what's our plan?"  
" The same plan we use for every job?" Connor suggested, looking at her cousin's confused expression.  
"Wait, we have a plan that we've been using?" She raised a brow speculatively.  
"Sure." Connor shrugged. " 'Don't die'."  
As they burst through the door to the roof at the top of the stairs, the other set of doors to the roof opened. Surprisingly, Connor saw the lovely Irishman standing there, flanked by two other ridiculously attractive men. One had china blue eyes and short, russet brown hair. The other, had the same eyes, but a copper red hair colour. The three of them looked utterly menacing.  
The Sezerac drinking one caught sight of her, and let his eyes betray his astonishment and momentary panic. He strode over to her quickly, and reached for her wrists hastily.  
"You shouldn't be—" His words were cut off by the sizzling sounds his skin made when they came into contact with the silver, and the yelp that followed.  
Connor felt everything about her body go cold and stiff with rage and contempt.  
" What are you?" She demanded in a voice as cold as ice, her eyes glaring into his menacingly.  
Something in the way her eyes were cast on him, so full of mistrust and anger made it clear to him that she knew this world. She wasn't confused and sheltered like most other humans, not living in blissful ignorance. No, this girl knew about the things that went bump in the dark. And she didn't like them. Not one bit.  
"Werewolf," He said evenly after a moment's pause. His two men stood by him, ready to throw themselves in front of him if need be. "And you must be a hunter."  
"Correction," Connor spat, a cold smile spreading across her face. "I'm _the hunter_ . The one that's going to kill you."


	4. Chapter 4

Connor lunged towards him viciously, seeing his men tense for the attack but refusing to care. She'd accounted for that, and would slide right under them. At least, she would've had Allie not tugged her back forcefully.  
"Stop it!" Allie shrieked at her cousin.  
It always amazed Connor how she could still sound so reproachful even in complete terror. Which she was always in on a hunt.  
"Let me go!" Connor's eyes were still locked on his as she screamed at her cousin.  
" We're not doing it like this," Allie yelled again, turning her cousin to face her. For a small girl, she was a lot stronger than she looked. Incredulously, Allie asked, "Do you have some kind of death wish?"  
Connor swallowed, in shame, and stayed silent not knowing how to respond.  
Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it—the vampires showed up, and she didn't have to. The stood at the opposing end of the dark roof, the cold wind being negligible to them.  
She could see now that Allie had miscounted, for there were only four vampires that stood there. The central one was a man, skin as brilliant and rich as dark chocolate. His eyes were jet black, shiny jewels of carefully concealed emotion. His dark hair was cropped close to the head in a way that made his waves stand out, even in the moonlight. On his right, was a pale man with longish sable-brown hair and slate grey eyes, who looked wild and angry. On the left, was a bald man with soft hazel eyes that contrasted the fangs he let hang freely from his mouth. Beside him was a short, petite, woman who looked strangely serene amongst the other three. Her skin, though paled from the fact that she as technically dead, still held a touch of the golden tan she'd once possessed. Connor noticed that her almond eyes were nut brown before she cast them downwards, and that the wind blew her long brown-black hair perfectly to hide her face.  
"Humans?" Came the quizzical voice of the dark eyed man in the middle as he looked from Allie, to Connor, to the wolves. He smiled dotingly, as one would to a child who had created a macaroni portrait for them. "Is this a peace offering?"  
"Like hell," Boomed the voice of the dark haired wolf. "They're just two humans who got lost."  
" Too bad," the vampire said, pouting his lips dramatically. After looking Connor directly in the eye he said, "They smell delicious."  
He looked at Connor meaningfully, "Well, they were just leaving."  
" No, no," Connor said with a wave of her hand. "I think we'll stick around."  
"You're insane, " Allie whispered to her cousin angrily. It was one thing for her to be a ridiculous daredevil, but it was a completely different thing for her to drag her cousin into it.  
While the wolves simply gaped at her, the vampire smiled and said, " My, my, my, don't we have a brave little soldier?"  
"My, my, my, don't we have a pompous little douchebag?" Connor mocked him as she batted her eyes innocently. She watched the smile of his harden and contort into more of a sneer.  
"I'm not sure if you're incredibly brave or just incredibly stupid," the man said to her coldly, no doubt hoping to phase her.  
"Oh believe me, I've been called both," She said nonchalantly, gripping the knife in her purse. "But I'd go with the former, for the obvious reasons."  
Before he could respond, the dark-haired Irishman interrupted and yelled, "Will you forget the girl already? Insolent as she may be, I think we have more pressing concerns."  
Connor didn't know whether or not to feel offended.  
As the two briefly discussed some sort of crisis in the Vampire/Werewolf world, Connor whispered to Allie, " Team Jeepers or Team Jenkins?"  
"You haven't left us with much choice, Connor," Allie said angrily between her teeth.  
"Jenkins it is," Connor agreed, looking back up to catch the last statement that the Irishman made.  
"Well, you know my pack's ready for a fight whenever your coven is. Let's settle this, now." His body tensed, ready for what would soon take place.  
" If I'd known there would be spectators, I would've worn my good suit," the man smiled apologetically at Connor and Allie, still continuing with this ridiculous façade of his.  
"Actually, we're not spectators," Connor's hand was still in her purse touching her knife, her other hand on her hip. She inclined her head at the werewolves and said, " We're playing for the wolves' team. Even things up a bit. What do you think?"  
"Jesus Christ, will you just get out here?" The Irishman scowled at Connor. Really, she wasn't doing anyone any favours. He didn't care whether she lived or died, so long as she stayed out of his way.  
" No, thank you," She said, sickeningly sweet with false politeness. Looking to the vampires condescendingly she asked, " Any more suggestions?"  
"I have had enough of this snarky little bitch," The female vampire—who had seemed so composed prior—suddenly convulsed with rage as her fangs came out. She looked at Connor with utter disgust and lurched towards her.  
" Hanna," the middle vampire sighed in exasperation as the somewhat unruly female vampire continued to sprint towards Connor.  
But Connor had been prepared for this, prepared for the snapping of fangs and the head that was already tilted as she prepared to sink them into her throat. Swiftly, Connor pulled out her bowie knife and sliced off Hanna's head clean. It fell to the ground with a soft thud as her body collapsed beside it. Blood splattered Connor's arms, dress, and chest as she looked up at the flabbergasted creatures.  
"Now, I have a suggestion for you." she began, stepping over Hanna's beheaded body as she tossed her hair back. A cold but cocky smile formed on her lips as she said, " Don't underestimate me."  
In that instant, she saw a look of complete and utter hatred spread across the faces of the vampires. She knew for a fact that she had royally pissed them off, but could not bring herself to regret it. The three that were left all lunched forward in unison. It was too quick for Connor to make sure that Allie was prepared, but she had faith that she was.

He saw them lurch for the two girls. Briefly, he debated simply letting the vampires take care of those pesky little problems. But, thinking logically as he often did, he accepted the fact that it was far more beneficial to side with them. For one thing, the two girls were willing enough to fight on his side. For another, 5 against 3 was a hell of a lot better than a fair fight, even if they were only humans. Humans with style, he noted as he recalled the dead vampire at their feet.  
He lunged for the vampires, knowing his boys would have his back, and they each caught one. He was sparring with the leader of that coven, which seemed fitting since he was technically an Alpha. The vampire was strong, however, and tossed him off in his pursuit for the girl.

Connor watched as the man who'd bought her a drink pinned the vampire to the ground, his eyes glowing with an electric green colour. She hoped he wouldn't shift, for it was far easier to work with a werewolf when they weren't in their animal state. Still, she had to help him. Making brief eye contact with a determined Allie, they held their Bowie Knives and the vials of Vervain and set to work. First, Allie and Connor tossed some Vervain onto the two minion wolves and their vampire counterparts. The wolves were, naturally, undeterred while the vampires hissed in pain as their flesh burned. This simple moment of weakness gave the wolves the time they needed to finish the job. Connor then rushed to where the two leaders seemed to be fighting.

"You look like you could use some help," Connor said with a teasing grin, answered only by his growl as his fangs ravaged painfully against the vampires skin.  
"I'm going to drink every last drop of that blood of yours," The vampire barked at her angrily, throwing the wolf off. He tucked and rolled and launched right back at him.  
"Suck it," Connor said tauntingly, uncapping three vials of vervain and throwing it onto him.  
His blood curdling cry would surely awaken the entire city.  
Just in that instant the wolf full on tore his head off, blood spewing everywhere as he tossed the detached head to the ground.  
Not content with him having the last kill, Connor forced her sword into the vampire's heart—despite the fact that he was decapitated. Blood pooled around where her blade was and she looked up proudly at the wolf.

" You're welcome," Connor said dryly, plucking up her purse from where she'd dropped it. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve.  
"I didn't say thank-you," He replied just as dryly. What was up with this girl?  
"Can't blame you," Connor replied as she turned around swiftly, pointing a gun directly at him. Shrugging, she finished, "Since, you know, I plan on killing you."  
"Is that so?" He was just as calm as she was, feeling his two men cover him.  
"What's the matter?" She taunted, locking onto his eyes. "Can't fight your battles yourself?"  
"Connor!" Allie shouted, completely filled with rage and confusion.  
The man waved his hand, signaling the two men to part as they had been before. "It's alright, guys. I'm not afraid of her."  
"Well then, you clearly haven't been paying attention," She cocked the gun, still smiling. Her smile almost faltered when he stepped closer…almost. "I'm going to rip your heart out, Wolf."  
"You're going to do no such thing," He said evenly, getting even closer. How could this human woman be so crass as to challenge a werewolf? "Look, my Pack thanks you for the…" He choked the word out, knowing it was the only way to end this bothersome encounter. " _Help_ that you have offered us tonight. But our gratitude ends the second that you threaten us." He walked so close that his chest was touching the gun. He leaned in, eyes glowing, and growled, " Get out of my face before I eat you."  
Connor was a millisecond away from emptying the gun into his chest but Allie cried out, "Connor, I'm begging you. Please, let's just go."

Connor figured she'd put her cousin through enough, that Allie didn't really deserve to engage in a battle with wolves. At least not tonight.  
Eyes still on the central wolf, she backed away with her cousin latched onto her arm. She pointed the gun straight at him until they got to the door, and turned and ran.

Allie was furious with her cousin and refused to speak to her on the entire drive home. Connor was almost positive she'd seen tears drift down her cousin's cheeks, and turned away, embarrassed. She would not sit through a fit of crying and pain and anguish. She would not listen to her cousin sobbing. She'd done what she thought was right, and what she still thought was right.

The man from the bar and his pack were werewolves. Honest to God howl-at-the-moon, running-rampant-through-cities, feasting-on-human-flesh werewolves. And she'd had the chance to wipe three of them out. That would be three less demented dogs to attack the helpless. She had no illusions about the danger of that battle, but there was honour in it. And she'd have felt proud, no matter what injuries she'd come away with.  
Now, Connor simply felt, weak and lazy.  
Defeated.  
They hadn't found the witch, and they hadn't killed the wolves.  
On the drive, Connor also contemplated what this could all mean. What was going on between the wolves and vampires that could lead to an organized battle like this? Could the witches be involved in this as well? And what would they do about Christy once they found her? Kill her, question her, it all was so serious now. It wasn't simply the easy job she'd thought it was when her Uncle first handed to her.  
The second the car pulled into the drive way, Allie plucked up her things and stormed inside. Her father had been waiting at the door to greet her, but she'd thudded right past him and shut her room door.  
"Should I even ask?" Uncle Ray wondered, a hint of amusement in his voice as Connor turned off the car and got out. He was wearing an old pair of jeans and a black t-shirt.  
"Probably not," Connor responded with a tight smile.  
As she walked up the steps and opened the door he questioned her, saying, " How'd it go? Neither of you seems too happy."  
"Yeah, on second thought, maybe we should talk about that," as Connor slid off her jacket, her blood-stained dress was visible.  
"What happened?" Ray exclaimed, his eyes seeing the bloody dress. He looked into her eyes, dull panic in his. "Were you hurt? Was it Allie?"  
"No, we're both fine," Connor reassured him, rubbing a hand awkwardly along her neck. "It's just, things didn't exactly go as planned." She paused and gulped before she continued. "The witch wasn't there. But vampires were there. And werewolves."  
"Vampires and werewolves?" Gillian walked into the hallway now too, wearing her silk pajama set. She looked over to her daughter's room, and said, " But Allie's—"  
"Allie's fine, and so am I," Connor sighed, moving past them to enter the kitchen. She had to find a way of explaining the situation delicately so as not to make them feel obliged to take part in it. She grabbed a water bottle, uncapped it and drank. They'd followed her into the kitchen and as she sat down, she continued. "We found out that Christy is a bartender at _Cat's Eye_, but that the guys she goes home with never come back. She wasn't working tonight, so we never ended up seeing her. That's when Allie overheard a conversation between the vampires and the werewolves. They were planning a fight on the roof. So we followed them up there."  
"Why on Earth would you two do that?" Gillian demanded, shock and reproach in her voice.  
" Because no matter who won that battle, the bloodsuckers or the mutts would've been left alone with an all-you-can-eat buffet if we'd left them," Connor explained. The logic had made perfect sense to her, but she came to realize that this wasn't the case for everyone. She looked at her uncle now, a small plea in her eyes.  
"She's right, Gil," He agreed, wrapping an arm around his wife who looked to him in dismay. He shrugged and said, "She's a hunter through and through."  
After smirking at that, Connor continued with her tale. "So after we got onto the roof, the wolves and the vampires were talking about something. They seemed to be discussing peace offerings or something. Anyway, we sided with the wolves and killed every leech there. BUT, when I wanted to go after the wolves, she wouldn't let me. The Alpha Wolf—at least I think he was an Alpha—told us to dip, so we did."  
" Wait," Gillian interrupted, brows furrowed. She counted on her fingers, "Vampires, Werewolves, Witches? That's a lot of players in this game. I don't like it."  
"Me neither," Ray chimed in, a shiver going up his spine. "We've got way too much on our plate here. I'm calling in some other hunters."  
"No!" Connor protested, capping the now empty water bottle and tossing it into the recycling. "Uncle Ray, I can handle this."  
"Witches? Yes. Vampires? Yes. Werewolves? Yes." He began in agreement. "But not all three."  
" I don't even think the witch thing is connected with the vampire vs. wolf thing!" She told him honestly, brushing her hands down her ruined dress. "So it's technically like dealing with them each on their own." When her Uncle opened his mouth to protest she added, " Just give me a few days, at least, to figure this out. At least so we'll have more information for the other hunters to go on."  
After a moment of unbreakable silence, Gillian said, "Work fast."  
It was the most legroom her aunt had ever given her.  
"You guys won't regret it," she grinned at them. Then, after checking the time on the microwave, and seeing that it was about half an hour past midnight, she added, "But I'm going to take a shower, clean my equipment, and then get into bed early tonight. And since you two have an early shift tomorrow, you should probably do the same."  
As her Uncle and Aunt silently went to their bedroom, Connor sighed in relief.  
She was glad she'd gotten them to leave so quickly without having to listen to whatever suggestions or conditions they intended to layout about her working on the case. She had no intention of obeying their suggestions or conditions, so she figured it was a favour to them that they didn't have to waste their time.  
Connor took her purse into the bathroom with her to rinse the vials and he knife. When she opened it she shrieked a little, realizing what had happened. After plunging her Bowie into that vamp's throat, she'd forgotten it because of the hasty exit.  
"Motherfucker!" She hissed under her breath, gripping the sides of the sink.  
That Bowie was her absolute favourite knife, not simply because of its beautiful design, or even because of its sharp precision. It had also been given to her on her 13th birthday, roughly a year after the worst event of her life.  
She stopped herself from charging back to the club to pick a fight with the wolves. Even she knew that was slightly insane. And she had work to do, which she couldn't do dead. So instead, she cleaned up her other tools, took off her clothes, and stepped into the shower.  
The hot spray of water warmed her cold and aching body as she thought about the most appropriate course of action.  
Tomorrow night, she would go back to _Cat's Eye._ She knew that there was a good chance of that wolf being there again. He seemed to have the same annoying persistence in him that she had. Of course, he was nothing like her. He was a monster, an earthly desecration.  
At least she was human.  
But what was his name, she wondered, feeling the water change her hair from the artificial straightness to her true kinks. She added a generous dollop of homemade conditioner.  
Not that it mattered, but she did think it would be much easier to find someone whose name you knew. She scrubbed at her painted face diligently, watching the murky water go down the drain.  
It was disgusting how close she'd come to sleeping with a wolf. _A wolf_, for god sakes, when she was supposed to be a hunter.  
But that was the least of her problems right now.  
She had to figure out how witches, and wolves, and vampires could fall together.  
The killings the witches had made in the past few weeks were higher in magnitude and crueller than usual. Sometimes, witches made blood sacrifices to contact the dead, or their Gods, or higher powers in any way. But, a coven of witches killing person after person? And the only clue they had as to why was a Victorian necklace with "I will fear no evil" inscribed.  
Connor would definitely go back to the club tomorrow night, if not only to find this Christy character and murder the bitch. People were already dropping like flies due to their own issues, they didn't need these supernatural sluts killing them off too.  
Stepping out of the tub and towelling off, she began to apply coconut oil to her skin in lieu of lotion.  
Afterwards, she brushed her teeth and began to braid her wet hair into 6 rows of varying braids.  
And the vampire-wolf situation? Even though it seemed that the Alpha wolf guy had things under control, she would never trust a creature to do anything right. She'd have to talk to him to find out what was going on in the supernatural world. They didn't exactly sell newspapers so hunters could keep themselves on the up about what was happening. She supposed she couldn't question him if his heart was being clenched in her hands, so he could live. For now.  
As long as he returned her knife, of course.  
Knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep, she slipped into her pajamas in her room and went through some of her hunter journals and the other books that she stored to help her with a case. She fell asleep without knowing it, at some point in the middle of the night.


End file.
